A good enough mother, p.7
A Good Enough Mother, page 7
‘Why are you putting him in a box?’ Mia squawks.
‘To keep him safe until we can either find his nest, or…’ he hesitates, then goes on, ‘until he’s learned to fly. He doesn’t seem to have hurt himself.’
‘Couldn’t he just stay sitting on the grass till he learns to fly?’ Mia says. ‘I don’t think he’ll like it much in the box.’
‘No, because a cat could get him,’ Robert explains.
‘And eat him?’ she says with horrified excitement. ‘Eat him all up?’
‘Well, yes, that’s the danger.’ Robert smiles at her. ‘He’s quite all right in my box. What do you think we should give him to eat? And how are we going to find the nest?’
Mia’s loving this whole Save the Baby Bird mission. This gives me a good opportunity to speak to Helen about what Mia’s been saying – much as I’m dreading it. I ask Robert quietly whether Helen’s at home, and whether he’d mind if I leave Mia with him just for a couple of minutes. Archie’s already lost interest and is showing signs of wanting to sit down and pull up handfuls of grass, so I take him with me and go to knock on Helen’s door.
‘Hello, Jess,’ she says warmly. ‘I was just thinking of giving you a knock. I said to Robert, wouldn’t the children like to see the baby bird.’
‘Yes, Mia’s completely taken up with it. Robert might have to stop her from climbing up the tree to look for the nest!’ I take a deep breath. ‘I’m actually about to go shopping, Helen, but I wondered if I could have a quick word?’
‘Of course. Come in.’
‘Well, I’ll just step inside – I don’t want Mia to know I’m talking to you about this.’
‘What is it, love? You look worried.’
I sigh. ‘Not so much worried as embarrassed, really. I hate to ask you this; I don’t want it to come across as… well, as criticism or anything, because it’s not. But look, if Mia’s naughty when you look after her – if she’s rude to you, or doesn’t do what you ask her to, you’d be absolutely right to tell her off, OK? But you’d tell me about it, wouldn’t you?’
‘What?’ Helen’s staring at me. ‘Tell her off? I’ve never had to, Jess. She’s always been perfectly behaved. Oh, she might not always feel like clearing away her toys, but that’s just normal, isn’t it? I don’t tell her off, I just say I’ll help her, give her a bit of encouragement, that’s all. Is that what you meant?’
‘No. Well, I don’t know. She just said you’ve told her off – and the thing is, as you know, she’s been telling lies lately but I didn’t want to accuse her of doing that again without making sure it’s not true.’
Helen’s response came a little too quickly, and I wonder if she’s just brushing my concern aside. I don’t suppose Mia has full-blown tantrums with Helen, like she sometimes has at home, but even so: always perfectly behaved? No grumpiness or talking back, even when she’s tired after school? Perhaps Helen’s just trying to be polite about her – but I’d rather know the truth.
‘Of course I’d mention it, Jess, if I ever had to tell her off,’ she goes on now, ‘but I presume she’s on her best behaviour when she’s with us.’ She pauses, seeming to think about it for a moment. ‘I wonder…’ She shakes her head. ‘No, that wasn’t a telling-off, at all… but I did talk to her, the other day, about the story she made up about seeing her daddy. I wasn’t cross, not at all, I just talked it over with her and said it would upset you if she made up things like that. I’m sorry, Jess. Perhaps that was wrong of me – I probably shouldn’t have got involved, really. But I knew it had worried you and I thought perhaps I could impress on Mia that it was important not to invent stories like that.’
‘Oh. I see. Well, I’m sorry, if that’s all it was, but…’
I hesitate. To be honest, I’m not sure whether I believe this is all it was. I can’t see why Mia would have got so upset over such an apparently gentle discussion about inventing stories – let alone claiming that Helen actually screamed at her. Perhaps Helen worded it a little more strongly than she thinks. But I don’t want to offend her by keeping on about it if it really was that innocent.
‘It’s all right,’ Helen’s saying. ‘I’m not offended, Jess – they’re your children and of course, you must follow up on anything that worries you. But I promise you, if I ever have to tell Mia off, I will let you know.’
‘Thank you.’ I give her a hug. ‘Actually I’m glad you did talk to Mia about pretending she’d seen her dad, because now that she knows you’re not pleased about it, any more than I am, hopefully she won’t do it again. I just hope she didn’t invent it because she’d like to see him. She’s never asked to, and, well – I certainly don’t want him involved in our lives, ever, if I can help it.’
‘Ah, Jess, I doubt it was anything other than Mia’s overactive imagination,’ Helen says. ‘Now, do you want to leave the children here while you go and do your shopping? If Mia’s enjoying herself with Robert and the baby bird, you can just leave Archie here with me. Mia can come indoors if she gets bored.’
I hesitate for just a second, remembering what Mia said about not wanting to stay with Helen any more. But I can’t have her interpreting any gentle reprimand or discussion with Helen as a telling-off; I need to get her over this.
‘You’ll get the shopping done much more quickly on your own, I’m sure.’ Helen’s encouraging me, and I smile.
‘Yes… well, it is tempting. Thank you, then.’ I take Archie’s pram suit off him. ‘I’ll tell Mia as I’m leaving.’
Mia’s squatting on the grass outside, next to the shoebox where the baby bird is cheeping loudly, probably in fright. I watch her for a moment, loving the way she balances like that, her little bottom only inches from the ground, her head bowed in concentration, a finger hovering over the box.
‘Careful, he might bite your finger!’ Robert warns her. ‘Shall we leave him alone for a little while now so he can eat that worm we’ve given him? I’ll pop the lid on his box. I’ve made little holes in it – see? So he can breathe.’
Mia stands up. ‘Can we look for his nest while he eats his worm?’ she says, taking hold of Robert’s hand so trustingly, it makes my heart ache.
‘Well, we could have a walk around the tree, looking up in the branches, couldn’t we?’ Robert says. And then: ‘Oh, look, your mummy’s here now. I think you’re supposed to be going shopping.’
‘Actually, Robert, Helen’s kindly suggested the children can stay here with you both,’ I say. ‘I’ve left Archie with her. Would you mind hanging on to Mia? I promise not to be long.’
‘Yay! Please let me stay with you, Uncle Robert, I want to find the nest and find more wiggly worms for Beaky. That’s what we’re calling him, Mummy,’ she explains. ‘The box is his hospital and I’m his nurse.’
‘That’s a very important job, Mia.’ I smile at her. ‘But only if—’
‘Of course she can stay,’ Robert says at once. ‘If it gets too cold, we’ll go inside, OK, Mia?’
‘OK,’ she agrees happily.
I feel a rush of relief as I thank Robert and hurry off down the road to the shop. It would make everything so awkward if Mia starts being difficult about being left with Helen, so it’s lovely to see her looking happy about it. And it makes me feel even more convinced she must be lying about the ‘telling off’.
I’m nearly home afterwards with my heavy shopping bags when I catch sight of someone hanging around outside the flats. My heart starts racing. Callum. Not again!
I slow down, wishing there was some way I could detour to avoid him, but at the same time, he turns round and sees me.
‘Where have you been?’ he demands.
‘Well, hello to you, too.’ I’m struggling to keep my voice level, to stop it from shaking. ‘I’d have thought it was obvious where I’ve been.’ I indicate the full bags of shopping. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’
‘I suppose you’ve dumped the kids again?’
‘No. I never dump them. They’re with someone who cares about them, which is more than you ever did.’ My eyes stray to the shoebox which has been left on the path next to the wall of the building, with its lid on. Thank goodness, Robert and Mia must have gone inside.
‘So already, you’re fed up with looking after them,’ he says, sneering. ‘I knew this would happen. You’re useless. You haven’t got a clue. I don’t know why the courts let you keep them.’
This was how it always used to go. He’d start by insulting me, making me feel as rubbish as he obviously thought I was, and it would gradually escalate. It’s been over a year and a half since I walked out, during which time I’ve been able to put his abuse to the back of my mind, try to forget about it – or at least, pretend to myself that I’m forgetting about it – and get on with my life, but now it all comes back to me with horrible clarity. How it felt to be so demeaned, to feel so worthless that I lost all respect for myself. Why now? Why, after so long of apparently not giving a damn what the children and I are doing, or whether he ever sees any of us again, is he suddenly turning up, starting all this again?
I straighten up, look him in the eyes. The difference, now, is that I’ve grown up. I’ve moved on, made a life for myself and the kids. I don’t have to care what he says.
‘I’m going home,’ I tell him firmly. ‘Please get out of my way.’
He shrugs and steps aside, but I feel his eyes on me, following me all the way to the outside door of the flats.
‘I’m warning you, Jess,’ he calls after me. ‘If you carry on neglecting those kids, don’t think I won’t report you. You might have custody now, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be taken away from you.’
‘I am not neglecting them!’ I retort – but he’s already strolling away. He kicks the cardboard box as he passes it, laughing to himself as if he actually knows what’s inside it.
As soon as he’s out of sight round the corner, I go to pick up the box and check the baby bird’s OK, and thank goodness, he’s sitting up and cheeps at me as if in recognition. I put the lid back on and leave the box closer to the wall.
I don’t want to go straight into Helen and Robert’s flat until I’ve calmed down. I go upstairs first to unpack the shopping, but I’m shaking as I do it. What the hell is he doing, suddenly turning up like this – twice, now – trying to intimidate me, talking about the custody arrangements as if he even cares about them?
I suddenly stop, thinking again of Mia’s story about seeing her daddy the other day; was she telling the truth after all? Perhaps Helen didn’t even see him, didn’t even hear him saying hello to Mia, so she’s ignorant of the whole thing? Mia might have just thought Helen said hello to Callum, or imagined it, but the rest of it is beginning to feel ominously like it could really have happened.
I can’t have this. I can’t have him turning up like this, making threats – it’ll only be a matter of time before he finds out where I’m leaving the children, and then what? I can’t let Helen and Robert be terrorised by him hanging around their flat. I’ll have to stop sending the kids there. I’ll have to move.
I’m close to tears now, but I do my best to compose myself before going downstairs. I can’t let the children see I’m upset. As it is, Mia rushes to meet me as soon as Helen opens the door to me.
‘We couldn’t find Beaky’s nest!’ she says. ‘So Uncle Robert says we’ll leave him in his hospital box till he can fly. Please can we bring him into our flat, Mummy, please, please, please? He’ll be cold outside all night.’
‘No, Mia!’ I lift her up and hug her. ‘He’s not going to be any colder in the box than he’d be in his nest.’
‘Warmer, probably – that’s what I’ve been telling you, isn’t it, Mia?’ says Robert. ‘We’ve made him up a little bed in that box, with lots of dead leaves to lie on. He’ll be fine. Anyway, taking him indoors would frighten him.’
Mia sighs but gives in gracefully. ‘I love Beaky,’ she says. ‘I’m glad we rescued him.’
I try to ignore the mental picture I have in my head of Callum’s size-twelve boot kicking the box where she lovingly settled the baby bird on his bed of leaves. Did he look inside it before I arrived? Or, even worse, had he been watching while Robert and Mia were tending to the bird earlier? I don’t think I want to let my thoughts go down that route.
The next day, under pressure from Mia, we’re downstairs and outside before we’ve even had breakfast. But as soon as I catch sight of Beaky’s ‘hospital’ box, I know he’s gone. The lid is off, the box is empty.
Mia stops, staring at it, her lower lip quivering.
‘Where’s he gone?’ she says, looking around her on the grass. ‘How did he get out?’
‘He must have jumped about and knocked the lid off,’ I say.
‘Why didn’t Uncle Robert stick the lid on with Sellotape?’ she asks crossly. ‘Poor Beaky. Has he got eated by a cat?’
‘Eaten, Mia. But no, I don’t think a cat would have got him. He’s probably learned to fly, sweetie.’
‘But we should look for him, in case he’s just hopped off. I’m supposed to be his nurse.’ She gives me a furious look. ‘I told you we should take him indoors.’
‘He’d have been very unhappy indoors, Mia. If he’s managed to fly, he’ll be much happier now – flying up in the sky, like he should be doing. Hopefully he’s found his nest.’
‘And found his mummy?’ she asks, tearfully.
‘Yes. Let’s hope so.’
‘But I wanted to keep him!’ Mia starts to cry properly now. ‘I wanted him to be my pet bird. I want him to come back.’
‘He’s a wild bird; he’d never be a pet,’ I say. ‘It would be cruel to keep him. He needed you yesterday, but now he’s feeling better and he needed to… be a wild bird again.’
While we’ve been staring at the empty box and having this conversation, Robert must have seen us as he’s now come to join us.
‘Mummy’s right, Mia,’ he says gently. ‘Beaky probably felt so much better because you nursed him so well yesterday, that his wings grew stronger and he learnt to fly really quickly. You can feel very proud of that.’
‘Thank you,’ I whisper to him as Mia bends down to pick up the empty shoe box, staring into it wistfully.
‘Please can I keep the box?’ she asks in a pitiful voice. ‘So I can show my teacher when I take my drawing of Beaky to school?’
She drew a picture of Beaky – with a worm in his mouth – while I was shopping yesterday.
‘Of course you can,’ he says, smiling. ‘Your teacher will be very interested to hear all about Beaky, and how you looked after him.’
She’s stopped crying now, although she still looks mournful. I’m glad we’ve managed to convince her that the baby bird freed himself and flew away. But I can’t help wondering whether someone who was hanging around out here yesterday, who kicked the box as he was leaving – might have come back later. I tell myself not to be silly. Why would Callum want to do that? I’m probably just still feeling stressed about the encounter with him yesterday afternoon; it’s ridiculous to imagine him doing such a petty thing, for no obvious reason.
But then again, what did Callum ever do that wasn’t petty, spiteful, and unreasonable?
12
The sun’s shining, I can smell spring in the air, the children seem settled, and most importantly, Callum hasn’t turned up again. I think, now, that I was overreacting. Yes, he’s always been a nasty piece of work so it wouldn’t surprise me that he hasn’t changed, but as for ‘Beaky’, why would he even bother with that? I think it’s more likely another kid in the flats here found the shoebox and opened it out of curiosity. They probably got a fright when the bird hopped out! But Mia seems happy enough with the story I told her about him finding his nest and his mummy. Every blackbird we see now she decides is probably Beaky ‘all grown up’, and she always says hello to them.
I like to think she learnt quite a lot from the experience. Not just about birds – Robert has told her loads of stuff that even I didn’t know, about how to recognise a blackbird’s eggs, and their distinctive song, and about how fast they mature and get their proper black feathers – but also about disappointment and loss and accepting that what she wants isn’t always the best thing for others. I hope so, anyway. I’m not always very good at that sort of stuff so it’s been lovely to have back-up from a nice father – or grandad? – figure like Robert.
She got a lot of praise from her teacher, too, for providing such an interesting topic for the class at Show and Tell. Her drawing of Beaky was put up on the wall and the children were all asked to draw pictures of their favourite birds or animals. Ever since, Mia has been making up stories about Beaky and his supposed adventures back in the wild, alternating these with her stories about elephants and wolves.
There’s only one problem: she now never stops pestering me about having a pet or going to the zoo – or both. Robert found her a picture of a wolf on his laptop, and printed it out for her, and Mia asked me to stick the picture on her bedroom wall. She likes to look at it with a deprived expression on her face, reminding me that it’s not fair that she can’t see a wolf ‘in real life’ or even have a dog or a cat or anything as a pet.
‘Perhaps she’ll want to be a vet when she grows up,’ Helen says to me when I go to collect Mia and Archie after work. ‘Animals and birds seem to be her obsession at the moment.’
‘Well, I think her teacher made her feel important over the whole episode with Beaky. And I suppose most kids go through a phase of begging for a pet. I’ve told her, I love animals too but we can’t have a dog or a cat. Besides it being another mouth to feed, we’re in an upstairs flat.’
‘Yes, it’s difficult enough, isn’t it, feeding two children when you’re on a budget,’ she says sympathetically. ‘Don’t worry, if Mia talks to me about having a pet I’ll make sure I remind her about what you’ve told her.’
